


Of Prey and Predators

by avyssoseleison



Series: Unholy Fuck [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (Not so) Secretly Caring for each other, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel Castiel, BAMF Castiel, Bottom Dean, Demon Dean Winchester, Denial of Feelings, Dirty Talk, Dominant Castiel, Dominant Dean, Fluff and Smut, Gore, Kissing, M/M, Play on Power Dynamics, Possessive Dean, References to Dean/Other(s), Rough Sex, The Attempt of Aftercare, The Violence referred to in the tag has happened before the onset of the story, Virgin Kink, basically there are innards all over the place but it's not that explicit, lots of swearing, not as present in this one but let's tag it to be sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 11:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1855633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avyssoseleison/pseuds/avyssoseleison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The angel and the demon know how to romance things up a bit!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Prey and Predators

The angel whips around, glaring, the second he catches the sound of light treading of feet on the nearby humus, his blood-soiled blade already raised and the form of his whole body taut and ready to surge forward and kill.

The intruder, though, pauses at the edge of the clearing, even immediately takes a step backwards, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. “Woah, there. Easy, Cas, it's just me.”

Upon hearing the familiar voice, he relaxes slightly – but still not as much as to lower his blade or get into a position that doesn't say something along the lines of _one wrong movement, and you're dead meat._

“What are you doing here, Dean?” he asks, his tongue sliding over his lips, which usually tend to be dry but are shimmering and must be tasting of copper.

The demon follows the motion of the tongue with his eyes that are perfectly capable of seeing everything around him, even right now, in the deep of the night and within the darkest of the woods, where any human creature would be able to recognize barely more than some moonlit leaves on those trees towering over them. He can also perceive the mass of intestines and blood on and around the angel, soaking not only the ground beneath him, but his clothes and hair as well. It's a rather good look on him. Nonetheless, the smell of the blood is is somewhat upsetting – not because it's blood, but Dean registers it as the stench of his kind.

“Uh, right backatcha. Why the hell are you standing in the innards and limbs of demons? And...” He shakes his hand a couple of times, pointing. “...what's with the light show I saw some minutes ago?”

Castiel narrows his eyes, very much like he tries to assess the demon with still lingering distrust – which should be there anyway, given their races and all. Not that it usually is. “I asked you a question first.”

Dean groans. “Just how old are you?”

“Older than time itself. Now answer my question.”

He can't help but roll his eyes but responds anyway. “I'm here because I couldn't find you at either the rectory, the church's truss or the crypt, so I figured you'd be out and about, which is why I went into the woods to find some easy prey or anything.” He takes in the other creature's form again. “Satisfied?”

“Not really. I don't appreciate being mentioned with you going for some _easy prey_ in the same breath.”

“Nothing to be done about that.”

“Is this really the truth?”

Obviously not just confused but also getting somewhat distraught by now, Dean lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, it is. I mean, I don't expect you to actually believe me or anything, as you well know, but I wouldn't even see why I'd need to come up with a lie right now.” He stares at the angel's feet. “That got something to do with the demons you just smote?”

Quite visibly, Castiel relaxes more and more with every word Dean utters, until he finally lowers his blade and starts to try wiping off the blood at his clothing, with little effect as both are about as equally soaked. “I didn't smite them, I had to kill each one with my blade.” Dean whistles in admiration. After all, when counting the limbs and the number of brains lying around, Castiel surely must have gotten at at least eight to ten demons. “They were on a hunt. For me. Well-prepared, as it seemed, because they were able to put an enormous ban on my powers and managed to force out part of my wings, which is why I had to kill them by hand and in such a messy way.”

“Your wings?” Dean asks in confusion, then lifts his hand in the same placating gesture as before, though Castiel isn't even looking at him right now. “I can see where you're coming from when you think that I got something to do with this, but I really had no idea. I only followed the light I saw shining above the treetops, thinking that something interesting might be happening around here. As I said before, I was bored.”

The angel tips up his head before he cocks it to one side. “You didn't say that- ah, I see,” he murmurs to himself, obviously in the process of understanding more of what has been voiced before. He shakes his hand, then, letting his blade vanish at the appropriate position of his wrist. “No, I know. It would've been rather stupid of you to have a group of other demons lure me outside and go after me when you could have taken me in with a much greater ease while I was sleeping or we were fornicating. This way, you also wouldn't have had to share the prey with your brothers and sisters.”

Dean laughs at his poor choice of words way more than is appropriate for a being is age, but his amusement dies off when he starts speaking again. “They're not my brothers and not my sisters. I had a brother, and they are nothing like him.” An old gloominess passes over his features for just a moment. “Ah, but yeah, you're right about that I had many occasions to get you while fornicating already.” He grins. “But what's with the wings?”

“What about them?”

“You really got those?”

“How do you think I am moving about?”

“I don't know, I always thought... like me?”

“Well, then how do believe you do it?”

Dean ponders this question for a moment, and shrugs. “Teleportation? I guess, yeah. Never really thought too much about it, I just can somehow. But I sure as hell don't have any wings.”

Castiel just nods at this. Dean wonders for a moment about whether Castiel knows about how his demon powers actually do work, and comes to the conclusion that he most likely does – why would something as trivial as this even be an issue to a heavenly creature, of course he knows shit like this – but that Dean himself doesn't care enough to ask him about it. Instead, he takes a couple of steps forward, and because the angel doesn't react in any hostile way to it whereas he was about to kill Dean when he first arrived, takes it as a sign to be allowed to go on. The angel is busy loosening his damp trench coat a bit, letting his palms smooth over the fabric and probably assessing the damage. If he bothered to do so, he'd probably repair it within an instant. No such thing happens, though.

Without any reservations now, Dean steps into Castiel's personal space, following the trace of the angel's hand over his bloodied body. The demon cocks an eyebrow and asks aloud, despite himself, “You alright?”

“I believe so. I don't feel still weakened as much as before, but I can't heal my body completely or clean up, though. I wonder how long the demons's spells could possibly keep affecting me – they are already dead, after all.”

With a predatory smile upon his lips, Dean lets the back of his fingertips slowly glide over the sullied cheek of the angel. “Meaning you're at my mercy?”

“Hardly. I just killed eight demons, one more or less won't make much of a difference to me.”

Dean can't decide whether to laugh or roll his eyes, so instead he lets his fingers slide higher, almost tenderly cupping the area surrounding the angel's ear, the tips of his fingers barely more than brushing the warm and blood-wet skin beneath them. “Really? It wouldn't make much of a difference if I live or die?” His plump lips ghost over Castiel's jawline, coming closer to the encompassed ear in a laggard motion.

“That's not... exactly what I meant. But you know I'm not always as weak as when – _uh_ – we first--” The demon's nose nuzzles his ear, followed by his lips – these, though, merely ghost over the sensitive skin that spans over the tip of the angel's ear.

“Shhh, I know,” his voice is little more than a breath, sliding over the shell of Castiel's ear.

The demon feels how desperate hands grab at the front of his shirt, scrambling at it.

“But I wonder how they even lured you out, Cas.” He smirks when a tremor makes the hands in his shirt and the thin and warm skin beneath his lips shake. “Did they tell you that there was some human that was in danger? Were they disguised as a group of children that searched for your help and only had demonic stain on them because they used to be possessed? Hm? What did they do to make you actually go with them, like some simple fool?”

The angel growls beneath him in irritation. “Don't take me for an idiot, demon. I knew very well what they were right when they arrived at the church.” Dean chuckles, the puffs of hot breath making it quite obviously harder for Castiel to keep his voice steady. “I, I followed them with the intention to purge them later on, after they brought me to where they said you were.”

Dean stops dead in his tracks. “What? Me?”

If the skin becoming even hotter beneath Dean's lips was any indication, the angel was blushing. _Fucking blushing_. “They claimed to have been a part of the local demons that set up in the south of town, and they said that you were one of them, and that you were injured so badly that you even told them about me and our— that we know each other, so that they could come and get me to heal you.”

Wow, even though Dean knew that his kin are rather dumb and blatant in general, he never would have expected them to try such an apparent angle. Worse yet, their stupid little trapped actually worked on an Angel of the Lord. Cas probably should be glad about God being MIA or dead or whatever Cas said he were, because he surely would be ashamed to hear what a big dumbo one of his children was. Worst of all though, he was being such an idiot in order to help a demon. You know, the kind of creatures he's supposed to wipe out, not help or even have sex with.

Dean inhales sharply and is being hit by the overwhelming scent of ozone, clear water, salt on skin, and the blood of his kin. “You're a moron, angel. A fucking moron.” And with that, he doesn't even give Castiel the chance to reply or protest, because he presses his formerly only lingering lips upon the shell of Castiel's ear, his kisses almost gingerly at first, until he opens his mouth more and more, making all of his kisses wet and hungry against the sensitive, heated skin. Just when Dean puts his first bite onto it, Castiel tries to shy away, but a steady arm around his waist stops him from doing so and draws him closer to the demon's body. Which is how he comes to feel how Dean's teeth sink into the soft flesh of his ear lobe. The demon almost feels like tasting blood Castiel's as he soothes the bite with his tongue, and repeats his action.

The angel gasps, tiny hitched breaths.

Satisfied with his doing, his hand grabs at the back of Castiel's hand, holding him in place while he weakly shoves an Dean's arm around his waist, even though he surely doesn't seem to mind the rough kisses and the teeth that make his ears redder than ever before and only slowly wander downwards, to the equally if not more so sensitive skin of his neck.

After a few laps of his tongue, though, Dean stops for a moment, musing. “Your taste,” his voice is barely more than a grumble, equally gruff and disapproving.

With already somewhat glazed-over eyes, the angel tries to look away from the starry night sky and instead into the black of Dean's eyes, but the demon has already re-started his ministrations and doesn't look up. Moreover, he hides his face a bit by leaving a huge lovebite — no, it's a _hickey_ — at the conjunction between ear and his neck.

“What about it?” he breathes out, voice already dipped even lower than usually, which earns him a shudder from Dean.

“It's really bad.”

“What?” Castiel shuffles a lot more than usually, still not enough to get Dean completely off him – probably wasn't even his intention – but still enough to have him loosen his grip around his waist and get him to look him into the eye. And when Dean does, he seems in some kind of indignant anger and maybe even hurt. “You always said you like it,” Castiel hisses, by which he gets his voice to sound more like his anger and less like the hurt. “And how _sweet an angel_ I am.”

Dean frowns at this unexpected reaction, but maybe he should've seen that one coming – and really, he wouldn't exactly like hearing stuff like this, either. Then again, he didn't mean to say it, and would've guessed him to pick up on the topic either – and he wasn't condemning the angel's taste in general. Not at all. _Sweet_ was actually the word that came to his mind each and every time he got his mouth on him.

He rubs soothing circles into the skin of Castiel's neck, trying to bring his mouth back into the vicinity of warm skin of it, as well, but he is being held back by the iron grip of an angel who doesn't seem to be in the mood to let a demon dominate him right now.

“I'm talking about the taste of those other fucking demons that clings to your clothes and hair and, quite frankly, it's a bit weird to lick over the blood of my own kinsmen when I'm trying to fuck you.”

Castiel seems more exasperated than angry as he replies. “I'm really sorry about that.” Ah, yes, the kind of sarcasm Dean has come to appreciate (and actually recognize as such) by now.

“No need to be,” he smirks, and going by the expression on Cas's face, he is about to be smote. “Well, I mean, you could always mojo yourself clean or whatever, later on at least, but what I actually had in mind was to lick the blood off.” His words come out in a low rumble. “That is, only if you don't mind me having my tongue over and in every part of your body, licking until your skin is raw and red and wet, and you're begging me to make sure that you absolutely do not taste of anything but me, even _deep_ on the inside.”

He takes loosening of Castiel's grip and the little hitched “ _Dean”_ as a sign to go on, and starts sliding off the ridiculous trench coat for which he still hasn't heard a proper explanation as to why the angel even keeps wearing it. Apparently, the guy who he has taken as a vessel put it on before having his mind and his whole life blown into stardust, but that doesn't mean that Castiel would have to keep it on. Actually, since he is living in the church – where he was welcomed quite warmly by the local priest and since then acted as some kind of guardian angel – it would probably make more sense to wear some kind of priestly garments. He had said something about not being qualified to wear these before, but Dean is pretty sure that if there was someone who would be allowed to put on the attire of a man of faith, it'd be Cas. Also, it would be really hot to have his way with him inside a confessional while he was wearing those fucking priest's robes and the clerical collar while he was supposed to be taking up Dean's sins. Yeah, he sure would be taking up something, all right.

Why, he really should talk to Cas about this.

Right now, though, he needs to concentrate on getting the stupid tie and the dress shirt off Castiel, which is rather difficult as the angel finally comes out of his stupor and starts yanking on Dean's clothes and pressing his fucking pink lips onto every expanse of new skin available to him.

It's easy getting lost in this. For some reason, contrary to what he is used to, Dean really doesn't mind trading kisses with Cas. He usually tries to avoid it, simply fucking the person or creature he's with and then getting the hell outta dodge, mostly using kissing as a means to an end, easy foreplay, but with Cas, he actually craves to feel his lips upon his. This is where he tastes sweetest, which makes him go pliant fastest — which is kind of adorable and would be fitting for an angel, if only actual angels weren't usually such dicks — and it's actually nice in a strange way. It also gets them going really quickly, and even now he barely notices how Castiel is already deeply flushed and how his shirt is already discarded and lying in the blood of those other demons, but that latter one simply won't do. Especially since they are well on their way of sinking down to the ground as well, with Cas pressing Dean with a hand on his shoulder and one on his waist, and Dean, of course, doesn't even fight back.

The moment Castiel is touching the ground with his knees, though, is when he feels a sudden and angry discomfort. He doesn't want his angel here, marked up red by those assholes, and when he fucks him, he wants him to smell of no one but Dean.

Dean growls, lowly and savagely, and grabs for Castiel. Mirroring him, he holds him around the waist, but instead of putting his other hand on his shoulder, he puts it on the ground, getting to his knees and covering over Castiel as if he wanted to do him missionary, but he won't, he instead holds him tightly and starts dragging him with him, making the angel let out a high-pitched noise of confusing as he clings tighter to the demon.

Dean really likes how Castiel doesn't let go but lets himself get easily toted around without putting up a fight.

After dragging him like he would any other prey, Dean drapes him against the trunk of one of the huge trees surrounding them, and even if there are quite some roots digging into his knees and the ground is basically nothing but mud, it's still better than crouching in the puddle that his kinsmen have become.

It is _definitely_ better, he decides, when the smell of Castiel himself finally becomes clearer, and beneath it he can detect the musky scent of arousal.

 _Shit_ , he doesn't know why, but nothing gets Dean going quite like this smell. There's just something about it that is different from the way all those other men and women and creatures that he did smelled like, because they never seemed as delicious as Castiel, even after hours of release and want. Dean likes to explain it with Cas being an angel, and how wrong it is for a celestial being to smell like sex and wanting, but actually, he's not so sure that's exactly it. But he doesn't want to question this too much, really. Rather, he prefers to press almost chaste kisses on Castiel's lips while his hands are busy opening those stupid dress pants of his.

The angel himself lets him do whatever he wants, just melting against the tree trunk in his back and beneath the hands of the tainted one. Maybe both of them should be bothered by how natural this feels.

Dean starts breathing soft kisses onto the slightly red-coloured skin he exposes by chugging down the angel's pants without hesitation, and the otherwise unblemished and somewhat pale tone is glorious. He grins, and his teeth don't get hidden by gentle lips again, instead he slams them into the soft, yielding flesh of Castiel's thighs, leaving his own, more permanent mark beneath the blood.

Castiel seems not to be able to decide whether to like the sudden change in procedure, so he settles on a hissed, “ _What the fuck, Dean?”_

Dean just loves to make his angel swear.

“Relax,” he murmurs between a couple of new bites, “it's not like you can't make them disappear afterwards.”

“This may be true, but you are very well aware that I tend to lower my threshold for pain exceedingly while being with you.”

“I am.” This time, the outline of his grin gets bitten into his skin. “That's why I said _afterwards._ ” Now, though, he really should just let Dean give. If the angry yet glassy stare Castiel is directing towards him is any kind of indication, he's actually totally up for that – in more ways than one.

Without giving it much thought, he puts a couple of little kisses on the soft skin of his thigh, but continues his former ministrations when he notices how much Castiel squirms beneath him. With his teeth, he makes a whole line of red marks blossom, up to the beginnings of the dark and tousled hair, where the rich scent of the angel becomes even stronger and much more irresistible.

He nuzzles his nose through the hair, taking a deep breath.

He may or may not closed his eyes as well.

Impatient hands scrape over his scalp and try to urge him to do more than just inhale his scent and make Dean look up again, and maybe he should be used to the imagine of Castiel with parted lips and dark eyes by now, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't instantly want to kiss him while he presses deep into his body and fucks him until the only word left on his tongue is Dean's name.

Dean grins. “You okay there, angel?”

Castiel narrows his eyes, which does nothing to help Dean's desire to just take him right now. “Stop toying with me, Dean. Before you arrived, I have been in battle with those demons for quite time, and as you surely do know, fighting does rise agitation and a certain level of bodily excitement — with no real release until now.”

Not being able to hide how hilarious this is, Dean laughs, his breath lapping against the hair and the silken skin right in front of him. “So what, you've been hard for hours?”

Castiel growls. “Yes.”

Dean can't help but laugh again, but he at least shows some mercy as he slides his hand over Castiel's thigh and puts it loosely around the base of his dick. “Makes a guy wonder whether you thought of me during all this, mmh?”

Castiel's dick twitches in anticipation as it finally gets into contact with Dean's warmth.

“I was in battle, Dean. Just because my body showed signs of arousal and continues to do so doesn't mean that I had the time to come up with any sexual thoughts. It is purely the hormones of my vessel, and those do seek release now.”

“Is that so?” He presses a ridiculously chaste kiss to the head of his cock and smirks as he hears the sharp intake of air. “Should I take this as an 'No, I did not think of you at all' or as an 'Man, I got really aroused but was to busy slashing demons to explicitly draw out scenarios of the things I'd like to do to my favourite demon right now'?”

“Ngh, no.”

“No? What 'no'? C'mon, Cas, you need to give a little less vague answers.” He presses some more kisses onto the head, but he only starts lapping with his tongue over the deliciously wet skin at the last one.

“I did not— I did not think of you.” His voice is pitched a little higher than usual, and his last word barely gets out as Dean licks a warm and wet stripe up his throbbing cock.

“Did you just lie?”

Castiel's whimper is the only answer he gets, and as he looks up, he finds huge blue eyes fixated on him. It's almost funny how he can see realization dawning in them, and that's what makes Dean chuckle and feel a sudden surge of amazement.

“Holy shit, you actually did! I taught an Angel of the fucking Lord to lie!”

“N-no, I—”

“Ah, ah, you're doing it again, Cas!” He laughs wholeheartedly. “Fucking hell, should I ever die, please put this on my gravestone. 'Dean Winchester, Corrupted An Angel'. Holy shit, holy shit.”

“Dean, having sex with a demon would actually have been enough to count as 'corruption'.” He sounds understandably less pleased than Dean.

“Yeah, but this is different. Y'know, you could still have claimed some bullshit about me seducing you and not actually wanting to do the nasty with me — which would be a rich claim from someone who has let himself get fucked by me for months but whatever — but to think of fucking a goddamn demon while you should do your duty as heaven's warrior and all that — holy shit.”

Castiel sounds even less pleased now, which is rather unsurprising. “I still did my duty as a warrior of the Lord, don't you dare insult me.”

The demon just stares at him for a moment, obviously mesmerized by the recent revelation, until he lowers his head again, not breaking eye contact with Castiel, and engulfs the head of his cock with his mouth.

“Dean,” the angel breathes.

He lets him enjoy the wet heat for just a moment, then goes for open-mouthed kisses along the length of Castiel's cock while he continues speaking. “So, now that we know you were lying, what did you actually come up with about me? I hope it was nothing along the lines of 'If he were here, I'd slice him open, too'?”

Castiel whimpers in desperation. “Please, Dean, just drop this already.”

“No, no.” The first pearl of precome on his tongue is as promising and delicious as ever. “Did you think that if I were to come across you guys, you could just push me to the ground, rip off my pants and fuck me right in front of my kinsmen?”

“Dean—”

“I bet it was something like that, right? You wouldn't want them to see me fuck you, instead you could show them that there is no demon able to touch you, that you can fuck each of us in any way you want, and you could force me to just take all of you and make me scream while all they could do was watch.” And fuck, Dean's own breathing is getting really fast and heavy against his own saliva on Castiel's skin — who knew a little thought about role reversal and voyeurism could be such a fucking turn on?

Rough hands on the collar of his shirt distract him, but just for a moment, until his whole world gets — literally — turned upside down as he is getting slammed into the forest ground, and he doesn't even get the chance to huff out a breath at this as a ferocious and hungry mouth takes his, and the urgent press and slide of bare hips press him even deeper into the soil. He barely even notices how Castiel also took hold of his wrists and pushes them down on the sides of his head.

“Yes, I thought about taking you in front of all of these demons. I wanted them to see that you are not one of them, that your insolent mouth is mine to take, that your words and gasps and screams are neither for them to hear nor to produce, and that while they may have believed they had the right to use you to lure me out, they should writhe in pain while you writhe in pleasure, just so they understood that me being with you is nothing they should see as a weakness nor as anything short of worth it.”

Dean just stares up into his face, frozen in his grasp. It's obvious he wants to say something or at least react in any way, but can't. Thing is, he doesn't know how he'd even like to react. While the angel's words spike some kind of sudden heat in him, he is not sure about how he should classify this kind of feeling, let alone put it into words. He does understand that his emotions towards what Castiel just said are mostly positive ones, but this covers about the whole extent of what he understands about them. He doesn't even feel like smiling, doesn't know what to do any way, really, but he knows that he really, really wants to stay where he is right now: right beneath the angel, with their hips and lips lined up and looking into each others eyes.

Which is why, after an uncertain amount of silenced staring, he almost inaudibly breathes out, “Cas, fuck me.”

At first, the angel doesn't react any further than letting his eyes skip from Dean's mouth to his eyes and back, but then he opens his mouth, presses it on the demon's, and forces his tongue between his lips and his leg between his thighs.

Dean's gasp gets swallowed.

As might be expected, Dean usually is the one to initiate their little steamy sessions — which mostly has got to do with Castiel being the one out of them who has a set place to live or roam around, the church — but that doesn't mean Castiel wasn't able to give as good as he takes; he just seldom does. This, of course, Dean knows — the power thrumming just beneath the angel's skin is pretty much what did not just attract him in the first place, but also motivated him to stay, yet the celestial one usually just enjoys having any kind of morality and duty being — literally — stripped from him, being laid bare and being fucked by an easy demon with a pretty face. Which makes it all the more exciting to have Castiel being the one to press into Dean, him to hold him own with one arm while he disposes of his clothes with the other, and him to have a mischievous, almost slightly insane twinkle in his eyes.

Dean can't help but smile when Castiel softly but steadily rubs their still-clothed erections against each other and sighs. “Enjoying yourself, angel?”

“I believe,” he presses his hard member roughly against Dean, making him groan helplessly, “you know I do.”

An easy laugh bubbles up in Dean, and it only dies when Castiel presses his hands even deeper into the mud, almost making it hurt with the way his bones creak once, and when he carelessly rips open Dean's pants, the buttons formerly deeply embedded in the denim going flying, and tugging them all the way down to his knees in one go. Dean's amusement turns into moans when Castiel, with the same lack of grace, strokes his already freed and dripping hard cock a few times, almost as if in contemplation while he looks down on the demon.

Shit, Dean is so fucking turned on, he can barely think straight. It gets only worse when the pressure on his wrists finally lets up, but only for the slightest of seconds, because that's when Castiel flips him over, as if he were nothing but a doll for him to play, forcing him on his knees and his shoulders back in the dirt as he presses one of his hands to the back of his neck, simply holding him there, not even bothering to use his other hand for that. His other hand seems otherwise preoccupied anyway, as he grabs one of Dean's ankles and pulls at it just so, making Dean sink lower into the mud and leaving him all that more vulnerable, with no proper way to gain stability with his knees anymore. Castiel just makes a pleased sound, running his hands up from his ankles, over his thighs and to his cheeks, which he opens as if he owned Dean — which he might very well do in that moment — and inserts a first, thankfully angelically slicked-up finger without the faintest bit of hesitance.

Alright, scratch 'turned on', Dean is so primitively, savagely excited to have an angel hold him down while he fingers his hole, he might come from just that, and wouldn't coming all over himself, whimpering, from a virgin angel fucking his ass with one single finger not just be the icing on the cake.

But, his apprehension of this maybe being pathetic doesn't translate all-too-well into the outside world, what with him just moaning absolutely shamelessly each time Castiel's knuckles pass over the muscles of his hole — and fuck, it's been ages since he's had someone do him, he must be just as tight as Cas always is —, let alone when he presses some of his free fingers against his perineum.

Dean can't help but press back into his finger, moaning and whining like a bitch in heat. If he were with anyone else, he might be embarrassed, but how could he be with Castiel's scent growing all the more thicker, his fingers becoming more restless with each little sound. It doesn't take long and he's already fitting his second finger into Dean's hole.

"Cas, yeah… unh…"

Castiel chuckles darkly. "Fascinating how receptive you are to my ministrations, even if they are so contrary to how we usually are." He circles Dean's entrance with his thumb, soothingly, yet as if contemplating if it would fit as well. "Though, it might be you are like this specifically because we are usually different." He presses just the tiniest part of the tip of his thumb against Dean's whole, making it flutter and him whimper. "I must say, I do like you like this, demon."

"Why, angel cakes, you don't like how I usually am? That hurts to hear."

Castiel hums, so much more collected than he is when he is on the receiving end — which Dean considers with a certain ambivalence, because it is hot as fuck to have an angel — _Cas_ — languidly finger him, but he also craves to hear those sweet, desperate sounds of his. Well, you can't always get what you want.

"No, I do. You know I do. But this," and this time, he actually fucking goes through with it and tucks in his thumb alongside his index and middle finger already pressed into Dean, and the demon just curses and pushes back into those fingers helplessly, "is quite nice, too."

Dean feels his hot breath warming up the muddy ground beneath him, but failing to muffle his groans. It hurts, in a way, but not as much as it just feels really fucking good. And Castiel, despite his hard grip still keeping Dean down by the neck, actually gentles his motions a bit, as if he actually cared about not hurting a demon.

"Just fuck me, Cas, c'mon, I know you want to. Don't think I don't see it in your eyes whenever I fuck you, how you're torn between taking it and flipping me over and fucking me into the mattress. Here's your chance, angel boy, go on and take it. _Take me_."

Dean really doesn't have to say that twice, apparently, because the very next second, Castiel withdraws his fingers, puts them onto Dean's hips and grips tight, and then there is an overwhelming pressure at his hole. He's so unused to feeling this kind of intrusion that he gasps, and Castiel halts for a moment, before he presses on, slightly slower, and then his head breaches the tight rim, splitting Dean open and filling him up at the same time. He scrambles at the soft ground beneath with his fingers, and it's all he can do not to cry out at the painpleasure that is lightening up his spine.

Somewhere in the distance, he hears Castiel shush him, using the same kind of words Dean usually whispers into the angel's ear when he, once again, doesn't know how to handle the sensation of being fucked for the first and thousandth time. But Dean doesn't want that, he's not some skittish angel who needs to be soothed, even if Castiel's hand up his flanks feels strangely nice as is hearing nice words while he doesn't know whether to push back into or pull away from what Cas is filling him up with. Still, he's a demon, and he doesn't need nor want this. He doesn't.

"Stop that," he grumbles then, accordingly, "I'm not you. Fuck me or don't, but stop treating me like some baby animal or virgin angel."

Castiel answers with a contemplative and maybe pissed off, "Hm," and the warm hand on Dean's skin simply halts when reaching his hip, and then Castiel's fingers dig into his skin. "If you say so, demon."

Yet, instead of laying into Dean abruptly, he stills for a moment, rubs a tiny circle into his skin, just for as long as it takes to draw one or two deep breaths, and then suddenly _fucks_ into him.

This time, Dean can't do anything to stop from crying out. His breath is being punched right out of him, along with helpless moans and the broken beginnings of yelling Castiel's name, and damn, if that angel doesn't give as good as he takes.

Thing is, Castiel's mojo might make him virginal time and time again, but he still likes dampening the sensations every now and then, just like in this moment, just so he doesn't come the moment he enters Dean. Dean appreciates this, really, because it would be just very pathetic if Cas had the stamina of a teenage boy. He still seems overwhelmed, though, losing himself in the tight clench around him and the wet sounds of Dean's hole, evidence of how he had access to the demon's everything, how Dean is not afraid to let him take whatever he wants.

And take, he does, with hard thrusts that don't allow Dean time to come to terms with the feeling of a cock inside of him. He just pushes into him, relentlessly and without mercy, eliciting the broken moans Dean can't keep inside, no matter how hard he tries to. It's so different to have his ass in the air and to be split open, but damn, if it doesn't feel like the best thing ever when Cas finally finds his prostate, hitting over it with the head of his dick — that is only as thick and hard as it is because of Dean, and that's a really nice thought to have when Castiel uses the hand on his hip to force him back into his thrusts and be wet and open for him.

Had he room to do so, Dean would like to spread his legs even wider, offer his hole even more, present his aching and vulnerable genitalia completely. As it is, he can do nothing but hang on for the ride and enjoy the thorough fucking and the little curses spilling out of Castiel's mouth.

He thinks of how the angel is usually so willing and seemingly innocent beneath him, and how he is now the one moaning like a slut for his cock.

With the way Dean himself is pressing his head into the mud, he doesn't even notice when the pressure lets up, when instead of on the nape of his neck, Castiel's hand suddenly weaves itself with Dean's. And Dean, out of his mind with pleasure, doesn't even question it, just helps him intertwine their fingers, as tightly as possible, and feels a deep feeling of relief and belonging sweep over him when Castiel pulls their connected hands closer to their connected bodies, delving under Dean's shoulder, so that they are tightly pressed against the demon's chest. At the same time, the angel's full weight comes down on him, and he's being pressed into a long line, into the mud, by the warm angel on him, with almost no part of their bodies not touching. Castiel entangles their legs to gain leverage and uses his other hand to cant up Dean's hips into an angle that works even better now, and oh, there must be something about that new angle — surely it's got nothing to do with the situation itself —, because suddenly Dean feels nothing but safe and fucking joyous, and he's writhing beneath Castiel, pressing himself into his body, to which the angel responds by clutching their hands even closer against his chest, leaving nothing but warmth between them.

Dean, though, doesn't just lie there and take it, but makes use of their entangled legs as well, shoving his hips into the hard cock pounding into him, groaning and groaning and moaning out Castiel's name like an unbidden litany — he doesn't want to, but he can't stop, gets all the more frantic in his thrusts backwards when Castiel finally presses his lips against the shell of his ear, presses the tiniest of kisses there and responds in kind, moaning out Dean's name.

"Cas, Cas, Cas, unh, yeah, _Cas_ , please, _angel,_ I, more, I need just that bit more, fuck me harder, please," floods out of his mouth, and as if answering a prayer, Castiel picks up his pace, his formerly long and deep thrust becoming shorter and more precise, and Dean gets so lost in his angel's small "Dean, Dean, Dean"s and the way his own fucking hole squelches so filthily, and how Castiel's teeth graze over the soft shell of his ear, not even biting just teasing, and then Cas squeezes their hands almost painfully and makes one last really hard thrust and then still his hips save for some desperate little jerks into the demon, sobbing out Dean's name, losing himself in kisses all over his neck and the way he spills himself warm into Dean, shoving his semen deep and almost fucking lovingly into him, and that's when Dean's body just locks up and he sobs in kind, painting the skin around his cock and the forest floor with his come.

He loses sight and sound of the world for a whited-out moment.

And sighs deeply.

When he regains all of his senses, he is still in the exact same position as before, jammed between the ground and an angel, the latter one peppering his warm and damp nape with kisses, as if they were actual lovers, not fuck buddies, which they are not, so that won't do.

"Cas," he chides.

Apparently oblivious to the tone of his voice, Castiel doesn't relent and sucks a small mark into his skin. "Yes, Dean?" His voice is hoarse and quiet in his satisfaction.

"You gonna get up, or what? You're heavy dude, and we're done."

Castiel stills, but this time out of a different reason than just mere moments before, and Dean is sure that the little movement was something of a nod, and indeed, he leaves his neck alone and shifts slightly as to carefully pull out his softening dick — which earns him a displeased sound from Dean, not because Dean already misses their connection or anything but because it feels gross — and, lastly, lets go of Dean's hand and pulls himself up and away.

Dean feels suddenly very cold. But that's probably what's to be expected when getting fucked by some creature in the woods.

He hears the rustling of clothes behind himself, almost expecting to hear the rustling of wings as well, but instead of being left alone, he is being grabbed around the waist and pulled up with that inhuman strength. He winces when he finally sits upright.

"Shall I heal you?" Castiel asks, fumbling with Dean's denim as he tries to pull it up and maybe even zip up his pants again — with no point, seeing as they are ruined. Castiel could repair them without a problem, Dean knows. He could also clean him of the come he feels seeping out from inside him.

"Nah, 's fine, enough being touched by an angel for a day, really," he jokes, which earns him barely more than an exasperated frown.

"Are you sure? Your body is not used to this. This might cause problems."

"Doesn't matter."

"How about your pants? Shall I repair those?"

"Don't bother, angel."

Castiel's expression darkens. "Fine."

Dean looks him over properly now; even though they are still nearby the little battlefield Dean had fond Castiel before, the angel is now free of the pieces of gore and all of the blood that had stained his appearance; apparently his powers have returned. This makes him look better, on one hand, but Dean actually wanted to be the one to clean him of all that stuff, make marks of his own. Well, at least that he succeeded a bit in that given by how their little session started until Castiel took control. Not that Dean's complaining, their fucking just now was all fine and dandy — a bit more than that, if he were honest with himself — but he still wanted to put a mark on Castiel, however temporary. It was a foolish idea, and maybe a good thing it didn't come to pass.

"I will go back to the church now."

"Hm."

"Do you want me to take you along, or somewhere else?"

"I'd say you already took me somewhere else," he leers. Castiel simply rolls his eyes.

"Is that a no?"

"Yeah." In the church is where all those clerics and faithful idiots are, and also where Castiel goes to rest and be vulnerable, and Dean couldn't afford that shit right now. Not any of it. "I'll come by these days."

"Of course."

"And, Cas, just a tip for the future: if someone, anyone comes knocking and tells you I'm in deep shit or whatever, just ignore it."

Castiel's frown only grows. "What if you're actually—"

" _Ignore it_ ," Dean interrupts.

Castiel stares into his eyes, the same unsettling way he always does. Just seeing him standing there, looking torn between pissed off and maybe even sad, it was almost difficult to imagine him being the same guy who's just recently killed off a good bunch of demons and fucked one of their kin while still drenched in their blood. Which sounded way hotter than it had any right to.

"Now go and do whatever you were doing before those asshats came and tricked you like an idiot. Don't fall for that kinda shit again."

"Fine," Castiel repeats, even grumpier than before. "Then I will see you soon." He looks over Dean, as if gauging the state of Dean's body, and Dean's got enough of that.

"Yeah, angel. See you real soon." He winks at him and makes a kissy face, because he is a child and doesn't know how to handle that he'd like to go with the angel and that said angel seems to be concerned about him. Just before he hears the fluttering of wings, tell-tale sign of Castiel's departure, he catches a last glimpse of the angel, who is rolling his eyes heavenwards.

 


End file.
